


Next To You

by dindjarindiaries



Category: Star Wars, The Mandalorian, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Existential Crisis, Fluff, Gen, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dindjarindiaries/pseuds/dindjarindiaries
Summary: It’s been long enough since Din’s promised return for you to assume that he didn’t make it, and now you yearn for the life that could’ve been.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, The Mandalorian/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Next To You

You look at the wall of scratches you’ve inscribed ever since the day he left you here. You count the tallies and realize that today now marks a full cycle since the day he said he’d come back. He’d promised that nothing would keep him away from you, that he’d return once everything was settled, once both your lives weren’t at risk. He said he wouldn’t leave you on your own, not if he could help it. You believed him. You still do.

But you know he’s not coming back.

The only thing that could keep him apart from you was death. That’s what you’d vowed to each other right before he left. If anyone would hold tight to a vow, it would be Din Djarin, the man who flirted with death on multiple occasions and still refused to give up on the Creed that would’ve made his recoveries much easier. The same man who gave up every way of life he’d known aside from _his_ Way to save a child from the cruel clutches of a fallen Empire. The same man who promised himself to you, who captivated your heart countless cycles ago.

It’s the evening, now, and you realize you’ve been sitting numbly within your empty cottage for countless hours. That’s how most days have gone ever since you passed the day of his promised return. Life before that was manageable, as normal as it could be in his absence. You were able to keep up a job, walking into town to serve drinks at the local cantina—the same one where you first encountered your Mandalorian. On your days off, you could tend to your gardens, and even wander back into town and purchase more things for the home you would soon be sharing, collect things for your _riduur_ to receive upon his return.

As soon as that promised day came and went, all that energy disappeared—and now you sit alone, pacing the empty house that feels nothing like a home as you try to keep yourself together.

Often, you replay the last transmission he sent you. It was just a few rotations before the day of his expected return, a holograph expressing his optimism about finally finding the child’s home and telling you how excited he was to return back to you. Now, his blue image is nothing but a phantom that haunts you, his final words of “I love you” becoming a taunt that runs through your mind just as the sun rises and falls each day. No matter how many replies you make on that frequency, how many expressions of deep love and grief you show, you never get one in return. You never even get confirmation if they’ve gone through.

It’s just silence. And that’s what breaks you the most.

Din was a man of silence when you met him, but you became the one who broke him down. You eased him out of the walls of beskar he’d built not only on his body but also on his heart, helping him to rediscover who he once was and to bring that man back. You always knew it was there. Hearing his voice more and more, especially when it became bold enough to voice his truths, was the finest music to your ears. His voice, even while being modulated, was nothing short of soothing. Hearing it for the first time without the modulator just before he left was just like hearing a newly-composed symphony, and that’s the voice that often haunts you along with those last words of his transmission.

Being on this pastoral planet, the one you’d both promised would be your home one day, feels more and more like a prison every day without him. You never minded it before. But, after meeting him, after experiencing the way he changed your life, you realize you don’t want to be here without him. It’s not the same. Nothing’s the same. You’re afraid that’s how it’ll always be, that until the day you meet the Maker and see him again, your life will be void of purpose.

Din had told you that your purpose never hinged on him, that you were destined for so much more, and you’d believed him. You know he was right—but it’s a harder sentiment to agree with in his absence. It’s harder to agree with after you exchanged those vows that tied you together. It’s harder to agree with when you realize that you never even got to say goodbye and find closure to pursue your purpose.

You have to escape your thoughts, if even for a moment. You rise from your place on the floor with your back against the bed that’s become much too large for just you, wrapping Din’s old and worn tunic tighter around your body. It’s lost its scent and it’s become tattered from your use of it—but it achieves its purpose of comfort nevertheless. You don’t think about putting on shoes or bringing anything else for that matter as you pat out of the cottage, stepping into the grass that’s much too overgrown as you meet the cool breeze of the night. Your feet move without the aid of your mind, passing the wilted flowers and plants of your garden and only stopping once they reach the place you know all too well, just before a field of flowers stretches into bloom.

This is the place where you made your vows—where you became foolish enough to believe that you could have a future with a man who was so willing to sacrifice himself for everything he loves.

Numbly, you lay yourself down in the grass, your head resting wearily as you look up at the stars. There’s other planets in view, not too many but enough for you to point them out amongst the countless beams of light. They used to look so much more radiant when you’d lay with Din, whether it be in the grass where you are now or the texture of many different planets.

He’d let you run around with him in the _Crest_ for a few cycles, before things got dangerous enough for him to worry about your safety. You’d had some of your best memories fixing up the ship for him, putting your skills to use while also getting to know him so well. You know you were both captivated since your first conversation in that cantina—you could’ve told anyone such from the way he trusted you enough to invite you into his crew that same evening.

In those times spent on planets you often didn’t know the names of, you’d often stare at the stars together for some sort of relief from the stress of what followed you. They started as silent sessions of admiration, but as time went on and as your hearts bled more and more together, he began to speak.

“Do you see that constellation?” Din had pointed out on one occasion, and when you shake your head, he pointed with a gloved finger to an arrangement of stars in a perfect grouping of a circle just above your heads. “Whenever I see that, I…” he’d had to pause, hesitant to be so open to you—but you’d always been so patient, “... I’m reminded of the shine in your eyes, when you look at the kid.”

You’d raised an eyebrow as you turned your head to look at him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. “Just the kid?”

Din’s helmet had looked over to you, too, and you’d felt his gloved hand move hesitantly towards yours until his fingers had slowly entwined with your own. “And… me.”

You’d smiled at him and given his hand a gentle squeeze. “That sounds more accurate.”

Din had often communicated his love to you with metaphors of the stars. He’d pointed them out to you while you sat together in the cockpit after he’d been away on a long hunt, holding you close in an attempt to comfort both of you as he mused on all he’d missed while he was gone. “All these stars, all these planets,” Din had said, his modulated voice as soft as the hand he continually stroked down your arm, “all these distant places and people—but I somehow managed to find you.” His helmet had rested against your head so delicately when you’d pulled him closer. “And I thank the Maker for it every day, _cyar’ika_.”

“All these stars,” you repeat to yourself now, your voice hauntingly empty as you stare up at the stars now blurring together in your vision, “all these planets, all these distant places and people… but I somehow managed to lose _you_.”

Your voice breaks on the word, but you refuse to cry. Not again. You’ve shed too many tears in the past 368 rotations to cry even one more now. Din had told you not to cry the day he left you—and you’d promised him you’d try not to.

“No tears for me, _cyar’ika_ ,” Din had whispered to you, the feeling of his lips against your forehead as you leaned against him bringing you even closer to such a point. You didn’t know how you’d leave him, even for a moment—much less for as long as he told you he would. He’d pressed such a gentle kiss there along with his words, pulling away to let his fingers fall down the skin of your cheek. His smile then had promised you better days, and you believed it. “Not when I can’t be here to dry them for you.”

You’d swallowed back what you could for him in that moment, becoming the warrior he always promised you were—even when you did cry. You knew Din would never be ashamed of tears; it was the simple thought of you hurting in his absence that made you promise him wouldn’t cry for him. “No tears,” you’d assured him, pulling his face close to yours so you could feel his soft breaths on your lips. “Just smiles.”

“For when I return,” Din had finished, smiling again before he’d given you his last kiss.

Your smiles have been spent, now. They were spent when you greeted customers, when you thanked merchants, when you saw something in the market that reminded you of him and joined the group of other things you’d bought for him. They were spent by the time you scratched the tally mark that represented the day of his return, when you skipped through the cottage that day with the garden in full bloom, flowers flourishing in a vase on your table for two. They were spent when you woke the next morning to nothing but the empty cottage you still live in and realized you were going to be trapped in an eternity of loneliness.

It’s more suffocating to be outside now, so you rush to your feet and bound back to your place indoors. You close the door and stumble back to where you’d been before, but this time you fall into the bed. You know you must at least attempt sleep tonight. You hope that maybe Din will visit you in your dreams, assuring you that he’s happy where he is now, already preparing for the day when you can be reunited with him there. Your body lies on your side of the bed, always leaving the other one open. You try not to be haunted by the memories of the words exchanged on the pillows that surround you, the actions of love that had proved the truths you’d already spoken, the feeling of his arms tight around you—especially on that last night together.

You can still feel the softness of his cheek pressed against yours if you try hard enough, the patches of roughness where he became too lazy to shave everything away as he pressed gentle kisses full of affection and promise there. You can still hear his voice in your ear if you listen well enough, praising you for your beauty and your strength that could have him on his knees in an instant. You can still feel the beating of his heart in his chest as you laid your head upon it if you focus in enough, listening to the rumble of his baritone as he lavished those sweet praises onto you.

You can hear the sound of his boots approaching if you strain your ears hard enough. You can catch the glint of silver in the doorway from the moonlight that pours in through the windows if you open your eyes just enough to view part of the room around you. And you can hear his voice, raspy and weary and _desperate_ , calling for you from the same place.

“ _Cyar’ika?_ ”

You sit up so fast you might’ve hurt yourself if you cared enough to feel for it. You realize you’re not dreaming, you’re not stuck in the illusion of his phantom touches and memories you constantly tried to relive for too many rotations. And the cry escapes your lungs before you can even try to catch it. “ _Din!_ ”

Your body works before your mind does as you leap out of the bed, running to close the short distance and practically leaping upon him. He latches onto you just as desperately, sinking both of you to your knees as you weep into his shoulder. Din doesn’t take the time just yet to remove his helmet, and instead, you can hear his own cries through his modulator, your faces buried in each other and your bodies unable to do anything else than hold each other. You’re both trembling, trying to process what’s happening, trying to bury your worries and fears that you’ve lost each other.

Din only pulls his arms away from you when his shaking hands reach the sides of his helmet, pulling it off as if it’s suffocating him and discarding it to the side. You want to cry more at the sight of his gaze, shining and beautiful and _real_ , as it melts into yours. His face bears even more scars now and his lips tremble with yours as you take in the sight of each other. There’s so many tracks of tears down both your cheeks, but neither one of you care enough to wipe them away. It’s useless. This moment is too important, this gaze is too strong.

One of Din’s hands—still gloved—cradles the side of your face as if you’re the most precious creation he’s ever seen. “Did you get more beautiful while I was gone?” Din questions, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he smiles down at you.

You laugh lightly with him, your chest heaving slightly as your tears keep coming. You use your hands to reach for his face and rest his forehead against yours, needing the touch as you take a shaky breath. “I missed you,” you confess in a broken whisper. You wish to say so much more, but you can’t will yourself to say anything other than that truth, three words that don’t even begin to describe the torment you’ve put yourself through ever since he walked out of your door.

Din’s breath hitches in his throat as one hand pulls you even closer to him, the other still stroking your cheek. “I… I missed you too, _ner kar’ta_ ,” Din whispers in response, his voice wavering in the same way as yours, now. “Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you— _dreamed_ of you.” Your thumb catches a tear that falls from his eye as he continues to pour his heart out to you. “I’m sorry, _riduur_ —I know I was late, I know I couldn’t answer you, I know I hurt you _so_ badly with my absence. _Ni ceta_ … _ni ceta_.”

“Din, you don’t have to—,” you try to say, choking on your own cry.

“They came after us viciously, _cyar’ika_ ,” Din continues, now weeping through his words as he holds you close to himself. “I—If I tried to reach out to you, they could’ve… they could’ve tracked you down, hurt _you_ , and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let that happen. I had to go off the radar. _Ni ceta._ ” Din’s shoulders fall as he leans even more into you, his forehead still pressed against yours as his crying eyes close tightly. “I _missed_ you, _cyare_ —it hurt, it _ached_ …” he can’t speak any longer.

You’re unable to keep yourself from crying with him, letting your weeps fill the quiet air as your hands grip desperately at each other’s salt-coated cheeks. You run rivers that fall onto each other’s laps through whatever space you’ve allowed between your bodies. “I understand,” you whisper when you’ve caught up on your breath. “I _understand_ , _riduur_. Please—don’t apologize.” Din’s dark eyes open at your words, and you hear him catching his own breath as you run a thumb through his tears. “No tears for me.”

Din’s able to manage the smallest of smiles through his quieter tears as his face comes even closer to yours. “Just smiles,” his broken voice murmurs.

You smile with him. “For your return.”

With those words, your lips meet his, the taste of salt mixing with that of _him_ , everything you’ve dreamed and longed for ever since you started scratching up the wall that sits to your side. Your hands continue to pull each other impossibly closer, a sob mixed with relief and desperation shared between you as you move in a rhythm so familiar that you’re certain your heart is melting inside your chest. When you pull away, Din rests his forehead back against yours, his gaze bleeding into yours like your hearts already have as his thumb trails over your lips. “I love you,” he whispers in a voice so soft that it can barely be heard over the sound of your racing heart. “I love you and I wish I could use every breath to say it over and over again.”

You absolutely fracture at his words as you press another light and brief kiss to his mouth. “I love you, too,” you assure him, your nose now pressed against his as you absorb every feeling of him. “You don’t have to. I know.” You stare at each other for a moment longer than you could even try to keep track of, but the exhaustion from your emotions and the time you’ve spent pacing this empty cottage for an entire cycle begins to weigh down on your shoulders in the midst of your relief, and your hands finally fall from his face to his hands as you reach for them. “Lay with me. Please.”

Din doesn’t hesitate to comply, helping you both off the floor as he walks you to the bed. He discards his armor before he slides in beside you, finally filling the space that’s gone unused for too many rotations as he pulls you into his side. His lips leave kisses in your hair as you bury your face in his chest, smiling to yourself when you remember this isn’t the phantom touch nor the memories you tried to lose yourself in. It’s real, it’s present, and you’re no longer alone.

You can feel the exhaustion overtaking you more powerfully now—and you know there’s so much more to be said in the morning—but you need one more thing before you arrest yourself to a sleep more peaceful than you’ve had in much too long. “Din?”

“Yes, _cyar’ika?_ ”

Your lips tremble again as you bury yourself further into him. “Please don’t leave me again.”

Din holds you even closer. “ _Draar, riduur_. _Ori’haat_.”

And with a smile, you can finally believe him—feeling for the first time that you’ve finally settled in right where you belong.

**Author's Note:**

> mando’a translations:  
> riduur = partner, spouse  
> cyar’ika = darling, sweetheart  
> ner kar’ta = my heart  
> ni ceta = I’m sorry (lit: I kneel, a rare and deep apology)  
> cyare = beloved  
> draar = never  
> ori’haat = I promise (lit: It’s the truth, I swear)


End file.
